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Prologue
Grace
I knew I was in over my head the first time I met Hunter Raven. While all the Raven brothers were assertive, often abrasive, alpha males, Hunter was that times one hundred. Tension radiated off him like there was a ticking time bomb just under his skin. His default mood was angry, whether it was expressed outwardly or in a subtle undercurrent. He didn’t trust anyone or anything, including his family, although he did have loyalty toward them.
None of these traits were surprising for a man who spent time in the military and had seen the atrocities of war. There was no doubt that he suffered from PTSD. Compared to many, he was coping better, but something had happened or was happening that threatened the tenuous thread on his mental health. There was a pain and guilt that had ratcheted up his anger and distrust to the point that his family had forced him to meet with a therapist.
I liked to think I was a good therapist, even if I was no longer sure it was the right profession for me. I understood people, and better still, I was able to earn their trust enough that they’d share their feelings, fears, doubts and struggles that negatively impacted their lives so that I could help them develop insight and skills to live more successfully. However, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do that with Hunter, which was a shame because there was something about him that hinted at a gentle, loving man.
“Your brothers seem to think something changed for you a few months ago that has you angrier. What would that be?” I asked him, knowing he’d likely not answer. While many people had difficulty pinpointing the origin of their issues, I was certain Hunter knew exactly what the source of his change was. In fact, I think he carried it on purpose, like a punishment.
Hunter gave his same dismissive eye roll. “Gee, let me think. My father wants his sons to live a fairy tale and procreate to earn our inheritance. My oldest brother has drunk my dad’s fairy-tale juice. The world is a dangerous place. My favorite TV show was canceled. Take your pick.”
“Tell me about ‘the world is a dangerous place,’” I prompted, curious about its inclusion in his list. Was he talking about war or something closer to home?
He shrugged. “Muggers. Stalkers. Crazy fucks…take your pick.”
“Have you been mugged—”
He let out a loud bark of a laugh. “No. People don’t mug me.”
No doubt, I thought. Not only was Hunter a tall muscular man, but he also radiated a vibe that said: “Don’t touch me or I’ll kick your ass.”
“Okay, how about a stalker or crazy fuck,” I prodded.
He turned away, using his forefinger to trace something along the back wall behind the couch he was sitting on. “They show up to Ash’s clubs sometimes.”
There was something more to that. “Have you had an altercation with one that was different from usual?”
He blew out a breath. “How is all this going to help me? I’m sorry that I’m an asshole. But it’s who I am. Why can’t people just leave me the fuck alone?”
“Is that what you want? To always be alone?”
“Yes.”
“Then why all the women?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, telling me he was closing down even more. “Why do you want to know? Want to be one of them?”
I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t an attractive quality to Hunter. No doubt, he knew how to make a woman happy in bed. As someone who’d never been with a man, the idea of letting him teach me wasn’t unpleasant. Unethical, yes.
I closed my notebook, so I didn’t appear as threatening. I sat back and crossed my legs, noting as his gaze drifted down to watch.
“Your brothers mention that you have a proclivity for one-night stands since retiring from the military.”
He laughed. “My brothers are jealous.”
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my thighs. Hunter’s gaze dropped to my chest area. I briefly looked down. I dress conservatively. Today it was a white button blouse and a plain black pencil skirt. My top had gaped open when I leaned forward, showing a hint of cleavage. I knew I should lean back, but I couldn’t help but be intrigued by Hunter’s response.
Hunter was a man and it seemed like most men were slaves to their libidos. But Hunter was not like most men. Yes, he was sleeping around, but I was sure that was less about sex and more an attempt to fulfill something else. What was really interesting about his response was that Hunter was always in control. I suspected he never relaxed, even when sleeping, which could be part of his problem. So the fact that he was distracted by me was different.
“What are you looking for in these encounters? What do they fulfill for you?” I asked.
